A New Dawn
by AlSmash
Summary: She calls herself Taylor Hebert. Yet, she is burdened with memories of another life, another series of trials. And in this world of gods and monsters, it is only fitting, that salvation would come upon the wings of an angel.
1. Awakening 1-01

**I know I have been talking about this off and on on my discord, but it hasn't been until now that I have felt satisfied with any of the direction that I was taken. That was the downfall of the previous Papiergeist, I had embraced an idea, but I hadn't fully worked out in a direction that both worked, and one that I was comfortable with. In this event, I actually have worked out an overall outline of key events I want to work around. So yes, this is actually the work I want to call Papiergeist as it is now.**

 **Anyways, enjoy, I will have another chapter up in a week.**

* * *

 **Awakening 1.01**

Erich Schroeder has never run faster in his life, as he stumbled over a trash can, but quickly picked himself and continued going. No, he had never run this fast, but he was not going to slow down despite the protestations of his lungs as he struggled for his breath. Not for what he knew was chasing after him.

It was supposed to have been a simple arms shipment for the Empire Eighty-Eight, a couple of pallets of former Soviet Bloc weapons and ammo that no longer had any use to their former masters except a quick buck. It was the sort of thing that the Empire Eighty-Eight needed for their ongoing turf war with the Azn Bad Boys.

There had been rumors of course, of some new cape that was busting various drug deals and low-level members of the E88, ABB, and Merchants, but he had dismissed it as nothing more than usual ghost stories to spook newbies. After all, fear was an excellent motivator in keeping men on alert for the event of anything going wrong. Especially a fear of capes.

And while the presence of Hookwolf had raised a few eyebrows, considering Hookwolf's personality and status as one of Kaiser's lieutenants, it had simply been treated as added security since the Merchants had been seeing lurking in the area the last couple of days.

At least, until _she_ appeared.

He had been looking over the weapons, taking note of their condition and functionality, when Hookwolf suddenly became alert. That had been the only warning then had when she had appeared among them.

A woman with blue hair, her orange eyes burning into them, clad in an asian looking overcoat with red clouds in them, and of all absurd things, a flower in her hair. It had been the craziest thing, all of them standing there, staring at this woman, the woman's expression one that would make Mona Lisa jealous.

Then the silence was broken by the sound of sizzling, he only had a moment to watch as the expression on her face broke, her lips curling into a smirk before she exploded.

The resultant pressure wave knocked him out for a moment, his consciousness coming back slightly woozy as he slowly gathered himself back together, his ears ringing. He only had a moment to catch himself, thinking the damn crazy woman pulled an Oni Lee, before, to his shock, several more of her descended into the room.

His wits only had enough time to return for him to catch Hookwolf bounding across the room expression positively feral as blades had already sprouted from his limbs, his target one of the clones. The leaping attack missed badly, as the clone dodged it effortlessly. He then watched, as sheets of paper began breaking off from the sleeves of the clone and folded into a pair of knives, as Hookwolf snarled and adjusted back towards her, intent on tearing her in half.

Only to be stopped with a pair of metallic _clangs_ that echoed through the warehouse.

 _Did she just use paper to stop Hookwolf_ , was the collective thought that ran through those that were still conscious enough to witness what had just taken place. Even Hookwolf in his battle lust seemed to hesitate a moment in shock.

He didn't have time time to recover from his shock as he found himself flying back through a crate, another clone landing a flying jump kick upon his face.

Watching as one of the more feared members of the E88 get taken down, and those clones were proceeding to disarm and detain the rest of the men was enough for Erich. Spying the suitcase of money, and knowing that at least Kaiser would at least forgive if the money made it back, he scrabbled along the ground to keep as low of a profile as he could, grabbed the money, and made a break for it, as Hookwolf let out another howl.

* * *

— _Papiergeist—_

* * *

Throwing the remnants of the wooden crate he had been kicked into, Brad Meadows could only see red as he lowered himself onto all fours, body now a distinctive mass of blades and hooks that had earned him the name 'Hookwolf'.

The only reason he had been sent here to guard the weapons shipment because there had been a series of attacks on both the ABB and themselves by a single cape in the last week. While the attacks were made upon grunts, it was enough of an encroachment that Kaiser had wanted additional security upon this weapons shipment.

It seemed that Kaiser's worries were well-placed. But that didn't matter to him.

What mattered was this _bitch_ had dared. He was going to eviscerate her. Bathe in her blood and use her entrails to grease his blades.

Letting out a howl, wanting nothing more than to turn her into abattoir , he bounded towards them, opening the maw of his wolf's head, intent on ripping and tearing flesh from bone from this Oni Lee-wannabe. They both split, and he pursued the right one that had kicked him, as she ran. He didn't care that his charges were getting overwhelmed around him, he only cared about blood and revenge.

Watching as she ran towards a wall, a dead end, he grinned, sensing that the end of the hunt was near. But then she did the unthinkable by running up the wall. Too late, he was unable to stop his momentum, causing him to burst through the warehouse wall, and into the dark street outside.

Shaking his head to work away his dizziness from the impact, he recovered enough to catch as his tormentor came casually strolling through the hole as if this was an everyday stroll through the neighborhood.

"You bitch," he snarled, sprinting towards her. Only when he got close enough to her, she burst apart into thousands upon thousands of sheets of paper that then flew around and began wrapping tightly around him.

At first, he was taken aback at the suddenness of the attack. But once he recovered, he began fighting. While it may have worked against other parahumans, it did not work against him, snarling and cursing, he 'withdrew' his blades into his core, feeling paper that felt impossibly stronger than possible constrict further, before forcing his essence back out again.

Slowly, but surely, it worked, as cut after cut began to compromise the paper's integrity. It was slow progress, but soon enough, he was able to break out. Panting from the exertion, the bloodlust fading away, he barely had enough time to realize that he was now surrounded by more of her, each of them knelt in front of their own piece of paper.

Nor did he have enough time to process whatever else he was seeing, as in perfect synchronization, they slammed a hand down on those papers, and electricity arced upwards, forming an impromptu dome that surrounded him, before the dome collapsed around him, the walls of electricity merging into the center where he was.

There was, however, enough time for him to scream, as the very metal that gave him his name worked to conduct the electricity, leave him in agony as every nerve ending lit afire, before blissful unconsciousness consumed him.

* * *

— _Papiergeist—_

* * *

Leaning up against a wall, Erich paused for a moment to catch his breath, his lungs begging him to breathe something more than gasps. He was now at least several blocks away from the scene, far enough away to hopefully have eluded his pursuer.

Taking stock of his surroundings, he took a deep sigh of relief when he realized he was back in Empire territory. He must have run a lot more than he thought. Discarding that errant thought, with trembling fingers, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a phone, before dialing a number.

After a few rings, the number picked up..

" _Erich. What's wrong?"_

James Fliescher, also known as Krieg, had been a close friend of his for years, with their families frequently having dinners together. While he had cut his teeth as an arms dealer, with a nose at getting better and better arms for the Empire Eighty-Eight, James had helped with some shipments over the years through his contacts.

"James. Dinner didn't go as planned," he spoke, still trying to catch his breath, using a code phrase indicating that the deal had gone wrong, "had an uninvited guest."

" _Where are you, Erich?"_

He looked around, noting the landmarks.

"I'm at—"

He froze as the fluttering of paper caught his attention, because it almost sounded like _angry_ fluttering and it was _**above**_ him.

Slowly, he craned his head up. When he saw what was above him, the phone dropped out of his hand and clattered to the ground as James tried to call out his name again.

"Mein gott," Erich whispered, taking in the sight of the same woman, standing on the side of the building as if she were standing upon the ground, looking down upon him with those burning orange eyes.

And then she broke apart into paper and enveloped him in darkness.

* * *

— _Papiergeist—_

* * *

It was with the growl of his motorcycle that Colin Wallis, Armsmaster, arrived at the scene, parking it and retrieving his halberd as he dismounted. Taking in the scene of the hole in the warehouse, he then looked around the rest of the scene that had been called in by an anonymous citizen, keen for any sort of trap that may await both himself, but also the PRT response team that was on the way.

Though, if his suspicions were correct, the citizen that had called in was far from anonymous. In the last week, the Brockton Bay Protectorate had fielded calls from this person, and on each occasion, they were led to a location with unconscious criminals, and a folder with photos and a precise written report on what had taken place. Empire Eighty-Eight, Azn Bad Boys, Merchants, or unaffiliated, it didn't matter to this vigilante. All they had been able to gather from criminal statements was that the vigilante was a woman with parahuman abilities and that she did not wear a mask.

Why the parahuman chose not to wear a mask or disguise herself was worrisome. As without the backing of any organization or gang, they were free game to retaliation wherever they were. It was only a matter of time before someone recognized them and the parahuman would likely find themself coopted or dead.

Furthermore, there was an element of clinical brutality in her nonlethal takedowns. Several of the arrested required treatment at the hospital, with some of them even requiring the medical mercies of Panacea herself. This newcomer did not seem to hold back, which worried Colin, as there was a very fine line between the brutality so far, and simply killing the criminal if this parahuman so choose.

Honestly, he did not approve of this parahuman whatsoever. Both her vigilantism, but also her lack of adherence to the rules and standards that made a cape what they were. As far as he was concerned, this cape needed to be brought into line, before they made things worse, either for themselves, or the rightful authorities.

Striding forward, yet keeping a cautious eye about him, he whirled around and brought his halberd to bear against a the sound of feet impacting pavement as a figure that had landed after jumping down from a warehouse across the street, beside her floated a human-shaped bundle of paper.

Eyes narrowing behind his visor, he took in the figure before him. Female. Late twenties to early thirties in age. Asian features. Estimated five and a half feet tall. Maybe hundred pounds , if that. Blue hair. Orange eyes. Clothing consisting of a cloak with red clouds adorning it, leggings, and...were those sandals sandals? Other notables features include a stud in lower lip.

"Armsmaster," the woman greeted, her tone soft, yet containing a solemn strength to it that seemed completely opposite of what he'd expected.

"Are you the one who called," he asked, though he already knew the answer, keeping an eye on the bundle.

"Yes," and with that, the bundle of paper slowly floated towards him, paper flaking away from whatever was inside it to reveal a man, who was laid at Armsmaster's feet, "Erich Schroeder. One of Empire Eighty Eight's chief gunrunners."

"Is he?"

"Unconscious. Just like all of the others."

"The Protectorate would like to inquire as to the method you achieve that."

It was something that had stumped their scientists. Every single criminal found at the scene had been unconscious with a 'tag', for lack of better word, attached to them. Written in archaic Japanese, somehow it kept those it was adhered to unconscious until it was taken off. The only thing that their scientists could figure out, was that these tags themselves consisted of paper, blood, and ink that was able to create a bioenergy field that induced unconsciousness.

There was a quirk of her lip, but nothing else came from it, causing his hackles to rise, but he refrained from saying anything more on that. Instead, she placed a briefcase down beside herself and reached into her cloak, retrieved a manila folder and placed it on the briefcase itself, then stepped back as the PRT began arriving.

"Hookwolf will require medical observation for shock injuries and electrical burns. All crates containing weapons and ammunition have been rendered non-operational through destruction. As per Eckhardt v Illiniois, I am informing you that I have collected twenty thousand, eight hundred, and sixty-five dollars as part of remuneration for services rendered in disruption of a non-financial crime in progress. There is a receipt for the transaction in the folder along with photographs, statements, and relevant paperwork necessary to fulfill the Eckhardt test and this case."

How was she doing that, he had to wonder. The call in was only twenty minutes ago. Yet, according to her, she not only had a report ready to go, but included the necessary paperwork to fulfill an Eckhardt test, where a cape had to prove the legitimacy where they would gain a monetary amount in excess of five thousand dollar. A test that was designed specifically to be difficult for independent capes to benefit from.

Just what was her power to be able to do it that quickly?

The fact that this woman was actively working to fulfill an Eckhardt test only colored his opinion towards her further in a negative light. Yet, he had orders to attempt to recruit her,

"If you joined the Protectorate, you would not have to worry about fulfilling the Eckhardt Test, Miss…"

"Tenshi."

Colin's Japanese was rather rusty, he was willing to admit that, so while the word 'tenshi' had a ring of familiarity, he was not sure what it meant.

"And while I am honored by your offer, Armsmaster, I must respectfully decline."

"May I ask why?"

"No," and with a small smile, her 'skin' peeled away into individual sheets of paper that were carried away in the light wind, leaving Armsmaster standing there alone with a crime scene, more questions than answers, and a further dislike for the newly named Tenshi.

* * *

— _Papiergeist—_

* * *

My eyes opened to the sound of tapping on the window. Smiling, I got finished putting on my clothes before walking over to the window and opening it, a small paper bird hopping in. Holding out a hand, it then hopped up on there, before unfolding and absorbing into my body.

I had to close my eyes to focus, but with it, I could recall everything that had transpired after I had captured Schroeder and broken off for home, leaving a clone to tie up loose ends and leave the money with the Protectorate.

 _Armsmaster_ , I thought with a frown, laying back down on my bed as I considered the exchange between my clone and the leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate capes. It was still—difficult with all these memories of a life I had never lived crammed into my head. At times I had found myself thinking like Konan, and at other times I was myself. Yet there were times I was a distinct blend of the time. Even two months later I was still having trouble coming to terms with it.

Honestly, I could have handled Armsmaster better. No, scratch that, I could have handled him more maturely. But how can you be mature when you discover that the people you look up to have failed you so spectacularly?

It wasn't just them even. It was the whole damn system. When I had been been in that locker that night, surrounded in indescribable refuse, there hadn't been anyone there to save me. Hell, they had allowed it to reach that point by willfully ignoring that plight in their petty selfishness.

Konan's memories had made it rather clear a lesson that I didn't learn until after I triggered: People will protect whatever little pie of power they have no matter who or what they have to step on. Because they don't want to be _that_ guy with even less power. The less said about the zealous accrual of power, the better.

Konan's thirty years of experience was evidence enough of that reality.

Sighing, I dismissed that thought. I shouldn't be dwelling on this. I should be celebrating! While Hookwolf had been an unexpected wrinkle to the evening, I couldn't complain. In the pantheon of capes in the Brockton Bay area, Hookwolf was a big enough name for me to gain some fame while being a poor match for my current repertoire of skills: With his dependency upon blades and closing the range, where I could use subterfuge, clones, seals, and my paper to mitigate and contain.

It may be an acceleration by a few weeks of what I _had_ been planning overall, simply because by taking down a parahuman villain like Hookwolf I put my name on the map, I currently had the resources to offset it. It would be a bit more tight, but I could make it work. And if things got tight—well—there were means to fix it, I just would prefer not to pursue them at this time. But a shinobi makes do with the tools he or she has.

Closing my eyes, I settled those thoughts, finding an inner peace that two months ago would have been impossible to achieve. It was strange, how all it took was one really fucked up day to make me realize just how truly small my problems were. When I triggered, I not only gained powers, but I gained _her_ memories and perspective, and it opened my eyes to everything that was _wrong_ with this world.

And tomorrow, I would take another step forward to a new dawn.


	2. Awakening 1-x Colin

**I want to apologize. I know I said I had a bunch of material done up, and I did, but unfortunately, I did not feel secure in what I had, I had been hoping that I would get help on it, unfortunately it has disappeared, so I chose not to spend any further time on what I had. This was further complicated by the fact that I am pretty much the general manager of my store in all but name, which means I work almost every day, and when I do get supposed days off, I'm still called in.**

 **What changed was honestly I'm just tired. I hate how I'm disappointing everyone, and frankly, I'm tired of second-guessing myself because I want the perfect product. So I decided to hell with it, and I'm just gonna post what I have, and not give a damn about the blowback.**

 **Anyways, here it is, I'll be posting another chapter after this.**

* * *

 **Awakening 1.x - Colin**

While he would have preferred to continue his patrol, it was due to who the detained were that his patrol for the evening was at an end. So it was with some irritation that found him back on The Rig and in Director Emily Piggot's office, providing his report.

Throughout his report, though, he noted that Piggot had remained oddly silent, instead choosing to read something on her computer, another un-Piggot-like activity as the woman was a consummate professional.

It was only after he finished, noting that Hookwolf would need medical observation for his injuries, that Piggot finally seemed to shift her attention to him. It was only years working with her that he could read irritation in her expression.

"What is your opinion on this Tenshi?"

Wasn't that a loaded question. It was one that needed careful thought despite his own personal considerations on the issue, though he would still offer them nonetheless.

"Professionally speaking, Director, you have read the same reports that I have. Tenshi is a ruthless and methodical parahuman, based upon the week's body of work that we have been provided. She has clearly shown that she respects most of protocols, and has refrained from any villainous activities as far as can be seen."

"However?"

"However, Tenshi's brand of violence walks a very fine line that can easily become lethal force, if provoked. From all indications, she immediately resorts to inflicting maximum damage possible first and foremost, with little thought towards lesser measures. Furthermore, I have found her bearing and personality, from the exchange I had with her, to be more befitting a vigilante with a mercenary mindset."

It was no less than the truth. While Tenshi was not like Shadow Stalker before she was taken into the Wards, it was not hard to see the similarities in the two at least to him. Stalker had been in it for the personal glory and establishing that she was not weak, Tenshi seemed in it for the money. The fact that Tenshi appeared to be an adult worked against her because she was likely already set in her ways, unlike where Shadow Stalker could be taught to be better.

"Is Tenshi hostile towards the Protectorate?"

"I do not know, Director. It is worthwhile to note, that up until now, Tenshi has avoided direct contact with Protectorate or PRT in any form. When she did meet with me, she was evasive, and—I would not say combative, but there was a distinct lack of regard in her demeanor towards me. This may be some sort of anti-authoritarianism, or it may be something else. I would recommend caution in further dealings with her until we know which."

Silence met him for a few more moments, before Piggot looked to her computer again, this time frowning.

"I received an initial power classification for Tenshi before you arrived here, Armsmaster. I find myself concerned, as they have yet to pin down anything outside that it's possible that this Tenshi could classify as a Trump with as many as ten of the twelve power classifications of indeterminate strength. There are too many unknowns about this woman, and she continues to flaunt her identity as she picks a fight with all of the gangs. Sooner or later, this is going to come to a head."

He didn't answer her, because he could see the same thing as well. The three main gangs of Brockton Bay were not going to keep taking this, sooner or later there was going to be some blowback. He wasn't exactly sure _how_ they would react, but they would react as a matter of pride now. The question he had was whether Tenshi was aware of this, and if she was, did she care at all?

He was leaning towards the latter.

"Since Tenshi feels that she doesn't need to hide her identity, we have no need to refrain from the hidden rules. Armsmaster, I want you to start working on identifying her and tracking her down. Consider it a priority from here on. It's only a matter of time before one of the other gangs figure out who she is, so let's hope we can get to her first in order to limit the damage."

"Of course, Director. May I inquire as to if we are going to make an actual attempt to recruit her?"

"It would be better if she is on our side, unless you'd prefer another villain?"

"Of course not, ma'am."


	3. Awakening 1-02

**Here's the other chapter promised. If there are any problems, don't hesitate to holler. I shot this chapter from the hip so many months ago.**

* * *

 **Awakening 1.02**

The next morning started like any other since I had embraced my triggering, I woke up before dawn to begin my morning run and exercise, then I showered before making breakfast for Dad.

It was at breakfast that I broke the script, instead choosing to wear different, more comfortable attire. Then again, I wasn't exactly the lanky flat-chested nerdy looking girl I had been thanks to exercise and my chakra network. Form-fitting black jeans that still had enough flexibility if things got dicey, and a black t-shirt to fit the ensemble. Dad noticed it immediately, but didn't choose to comment.

There was a tension between the two of us ever since Mom had died. While I know he didn't consciously blame me for her death, there was always that unconscious divide between the two of us. So when I told him I was going to be spending a lot more time out at night, there had been a modicum of resistance, but in the end it had shriveled quickly.

That wasn't to say that Danny Hebert was a pushover. Not in the least. But it was hard being a widower with a teenage daughter and working a job in an industry that was dying. Since the Endbringers, the shipping industry had dried up, and what remained had to diversify and subsist on what little scraps they could get. He was worn down, just as I had been.

I hoped that maybe starting here, we could start reconnecting again. At least without the admission that I was a parahuman. I feared at how he would react to that knowledge, let alone my own reaction to his.

"So Dad," I began, after a forkful of rolled egg, "you know how I've been gone until late at night, and I wouldn't tell you much about it, other than it wasn't anything illegal and it wasn't a boy."

He eyed me warily over his eggs, but put down his fork, "I will admit I've been curious, Taylor.'

Honestly, I had plotted out how this entire conversation was going to go out several nights ago, but here and now, seeing his worn expression, I knew that it wouldn't work. Then again, I honestly felt it was too stilted to begin with, but maybe this way it would be better.

So, it was with the sound of my heart thumping in my eardrums, that I retrieved a manila folder from my backpack and slid it across. I knew what was in it, of course. It was the culmination of a month and a half's worth of hard work.

"Taylor, what is this," he asked, looking at the manila folder, then back at me.

"Just, open it dad."

Taking one more look at me, he proceeded to open the envelope taking out a series of papers. They were entrance exam results for Arcadia.

I knew there was no way I was going to be able to get a transfer to Arcadia through any request at Winslow. The Trio had seen to that by poisoning Winslow against me, and there was always a waiting list through normal channels.

That left the only other means available, money and smarts. I was relatively smart, I just never applied myself anymore because it was pointless when all of my work was stolen or destroyed. That left money, which I never really had until now.

The only problem became sidestepping the wait list, which was what the exam did for me. It had caused some consternation by the test-takers, as my transcripts were horrible thanks to Winslow. However, suffice to say, I scored well enough to transfer in, despite it being the middle of the term.

It then became a matter of money. Which, thanks to the last month, and especially the last week, I had no worries over.

"Taylor...what is," he paused, not comprehending what he was seeing, "how...Arcadia? But you go to Winslow. Why? How?"

"Let me explain, Dad. But, I haven't exactly been truthful with you about Winslow. It's," I found myself looking for the right words to convey to him without breaking him. I knew he would take this as his failing if I didn't do it right, "I'm not happy at Winslow, Dad. I didn't want to tell you any of this because you are always so busy and I felt like I could handle it. But, I have no friends, and I'm bullied a lot."

"What about Emma?"

"Emma and I have—drifted apart," it was difficult to say that with a straight face, but I had to. I knew if Dad found out that Emma was one of the bullies, he would track down Alan Barnes, Emma's father, and make a scene, instead, I offered a shrug, "high school changes people."

That seemed to mollify him somewhat, as he seemed to settle somewhat, looking at the test results. However, I knew there was a different question pending, as soon as he got around to it. But it was one that I was well prepared for, and it was what I wanted him to ask.

"Wow. You, did well. Arcadia. But that costs money," he then rubbed his hand on his forehead, avoiding his glasses only slightly, "even the exam costs money. How did you afford this? How do you think we can afford Arcadia?"

 _Got him._

"It's what I've been doing the last month, Dad. I got a job in a new bookstore that is going in Downtown. The owner of the store, Jiraiya, I ran into him when he first came into the city and well, showed him around. He offered me a job, and when he found out about Winslow, well, he takes a vested interest in the personal and educational lives of his employees, and he offered to see if he could get me transferred out. Of course, I had to do all of the required work, but he would pay for it."

Of course, my father would be suspicious of that, but I knew he would. After all, an older man offering such things to a young, impressionable teenager like me would smell bad to any sane parent.

"Taylor…"

"I know. It seems strange, I was suspicious myself. But he felt like he owed me and wouldn't take no. It's not like I'm getting it for free either, Dad, I'm working my butt off getting the store ready and I find the work soothing. You know how Mom and I connected over books. I feel closer to her when I do this."

It was a dirty trick, I knew that even before he winced at the mention. But I had to sell him on this for it to succeed.

So he stared at me, obviously trying to see if I was deceiving him. I was. Just not in the way he was thinking. When he didn't find anything, he merely nodded very slowly.

"I'm not exactly happy you've been going behind my back on this Taylor, but you're too much like your mother for me to stop you," he then sighed, "I really don't like the idea of you working, you shouldn't have to worry about things like that."

He trailed off, obviously considering what to say to me. I knew I was not leaving him with a lot of options, here I was, fifteen years old, the things he would expect would be me seeing a boy behind his back. Not arranging a transfer to a school, working, and figuring out how to pay for it myself. It had to be a shock to him.

"I don't like how you've been hiding your problems either," he finally said, "you know you can talk to me if you need something, right?"

"Of course," I lied.

He then picked up the papers, this time giving them a closer look. I knew the scores were quite good, I had spent weeks studying, not to mention I had some 'assistance' in some places. They had to be of course, to be able to get into Arcadia like this.

"You're set on this," he asked, not looking from the papers.

"I am. I've never felt comfortable at Winslow, Dad. Arcadia will be a breath of fresh air, and the classes will be good for a college application. I know it's a bit more costly, but I'll pay for it with the money I'm making, and maybe I'll actually make some friends."

I was met with silence again as he placed the papers down again, taking a sip of his coffee, his expression pensive. Obviously this was a bit more difficult for him to decide than I had figured, but then again, this was a significant decision at least from his perspective, and I was sort of tossing him straight into the inferno.

"I'll want to meet this Jiraiya, Taylor."

"I was planning to invite him over for dinner, Thursday, to celebrate my first day at Arcadia."

"They want you to start this Thursday?"

"If you sign the transfer paperwork. While I'm already a month behind on classes, they think I can get caught up within a week or two, along with staying up with my peers."

"This is a big deal, Taylor," he finally said after falling silent again, "you're putting a lot on your shoulders. I failed you with Winslow, it seems, I don't want you to get in over your head on this. Balancing work and school is a difficult thing to do. And I really don't want you to be indebted to this Jiraiya, regardless of his charity."

"It's fine, Dad. I know what I'm getting into. If it'll get me out of Winslow, then I want to take that chance. Winslow has not been good for me."

That seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back of his resistance, as he sighed, before taking a pen out of his front pocket, and signed the forms. It took everything to keep the look of victory from my face, instead just feigning happiness. To me, this was nothing more than a means to an end. Arcadia was achievable within the timetable I had established, and I needed to get away from Winslow in order for my plans to work better.

"How about we get all of this paperwork out of the way, go to Winslow and get your stuff, then to Arcadia and turn in your paperwork, then you and I can just have a day off together? How does that sound?"

It was an olive branch, one that I was not going to turn down, so I smiled, "That sounds great, Dad."

* * *

— _Papiergeist—_

* * *

I really did dislike Winslow. It wasn't just the people here, it was also the atmosphere. It was this atmosphere that had allowed the gangs to encroach into the school, slowly turning it into a recruiting ground. But it was also what had bred the apathy that allowed the likes of of Sophia, Emma, and Madison to prey on me, with teachers and staff looking the other way the entire time.

If not for my trigger event, I would have likely never graduated, so driven to despair that I'd have eventually cracked and left, or worse.

It was why I wished to be free of here. It was a chapter of my life I no longer wanted to be part of.

So as I strolled through the hallway one final time, as Dad was busy in the office submitting the paperwork for my transfer, I didn't spend any time meandering, waxing nostalgia. I just wanted this done and over with.

Coming to my locker, I paused long enough to glance around before placing my hand on the dial and channeling some of my chakra through it as I turned it. The chakra would connect with the security seal I had placed on the inside, disengaging the lock as I turned it. It was one of the first seals I had produced simply to protect my things after my locker my locker had been haphazardly ransacked again.

Not that I kept much in it anymore, but still it was easier than carrying all of my things everywhere all day.

The sound of the bell ringing drew me from my thoughts, eliciting a sigh from my lips as the hall began filling up with students. Closing my eyes, I focused upon the paper I had strewn through the school, before finding the one I was looking for.

It was how I avoided them so much in the last two months, steadily tracking them before they could find me. It was only during classes that they could torment me, but they had yet been able to ambush me outside of once or twice.

Now, I simply didn't need to care anymore, as this would be the last time.

Drawing on a little bit of _her_ , I waited, knowing they wouldn't be able to resist the temptation. While I did, I busied myself on gathering up my textbooks, and accounting for everything else in my locker.

"Look who crawled out of the woodwork," the strident voice of my former friend filled my ears, as I finished packing away the last of what was in the locker, "where have you been hiding, Taylor. We've missed you."

I turned, coming around to face my former friend, Emma Barnes. Once upon a time, we had been inseparable, spending weekends at one another's home, sharing just about everything with one another. Then it had changed.

A part of me had wondered if this was who Emma had always been, hiding beneath her good looks and money: no more than a petty, petulant, little girl who used others for her own gain.

Now, I just no longer cared.

"Emma," I greeted, forcing a small smile on my face. One that I knew would drive my soon-to-be-former tormentor mad.

* * *

— _Papiergeist—_

Sophia Hess was wary as she watched Taylor Hebert. And she had no understanding why, even as she tried her best to ascertain what it was that changed since the locker incident. And it grated upon her nerves.

She still hadn't figured out how Hebert, of all people, had been able to escape. Not even discounting how she showed up two days later as if nothing had happened.

Since then, the sixth sense she had depended upon for survival had urged her to give Hebert a wide berth. Such was the feeling that even when observing the girl at a distance, it nagged her to leave the issue alone.

In those two months, she had watched as Hebert had not only gained weight, filling in what had previously been an awkward and gangly teen, but had gained a quiet confidence that she couldn't figure out where it came from. If anything, Hebert should be cowering further, if not been sufficiently cowed to never return to school. It was what they weak did in the face of their betters.

Yet Hebert hadn't.

And now, as she quietly watched as Emma Barnes began to harass Hebert, she finally recognized just why it was that her sixth sense was warning her about the teenager.

It was the eyes. It wasn't hard to miss, but you had to know what you were looking for to realize just exactly what she was looking at. But they were the eyes that she saw every morning in the mirror. The eyes of someone quite willing to kill, and confident that they could do it.

 _No way. There's no way Hebert could do it_ , she wanted to scoff. But the proof was right there in front of her. And it was only further solidified when Hebert _smiled_. It was not a smile of happiness, but one that screamed assuredness.

"What's with the getup," Madison Clements, their little sycophant chirped, leering towards Hebert, "thinking that now you have something to brag about you're going to flaunt it."

If anything, the smile morphed more into a smirk, even as Hebert took the comment in stride. Previously, Hebert would have either stuttered something in response, or withdrawn herself. Definitely not now, though. No, Hebert simply acted like it didn't matter, which would only incensed their ringleader further.

"Nobody's going to want her," Emma snidely added, "she can change however she wants, but everyone knows what a loser she is."

"Are you done?"

That simple question, caused all three girls to blink. For Sophia, it was somewhat expected, but for the other two, the sudden spine being exhibited by Taylor was not. It was something Taylor took advantage of with ruthless efficiency.

"Well, I do have good news for you, Emma. You won't have to worry about me dirtying up Winslow after today."

This was enough for Emma to recover, as she smirked, "Oh? You finally decided to give up?"

 _No,_ Sophia thought, her fingers unconsciously curling as if she were holding her crossbow, _she hasn't._

There was that smirk again, as Taylor seemed to find some amusement at some sort of joke.

"Well, yes. Actually. I have decided to give up on Winslow-"

"Good," Emma sneered.

"-And transfer to Arcadia."

This time, she was stunned like the rest of them. Even the gathering if sycophants seemed to be taken aback at the declaration.

"That's a good joke, Taylor. Arcadia would never accept a failure like you. It's only pity that Winslow hasn't tossed you out for your grades."

"Not for your lack of trying Emma, right," came the retort, followed by Taylor shaking her head, "Once upon a time, Emma, you were like a sister to me. I would have done anything for you. I used to stay up late at night wondering what had caused you to change. Now, I just don't care, and I'm happy I won't have to deal with you ever again."

When Emma reacted, she honestly hadn't expected it. But it seems that Hebert had, as the open-palmed slap was stopped inches away from Hebert's face. Yet, in that moment, her eyes weren't on Emma, but were firmly locked onto her, a challenge residing in their depths. A challenge that she found herself wilting in the face of.

It was infuriating. She never backed down in the face of _anyone._ But in the face of Hebert, she couldn't help it. She _knew_ if she tried anything, Hebert would bury her. There was no doubt in her mind.

The hand tightened for a moment around the wrist, drawing a gasp from Emma, before Hebert let it go. Emma stepped away, cradling her wrist, fear lingering in her eyes. It was enough of a gap for Taylor to step past her, and Sophia's gaze followed after her, to catch Principal Blackwell, along with another man standing beside her, his expression pinched in fury. It was rather obvious, based upon the shared features, that he was Taylor's father.

"Goodbye, Emma," Taylor simply stated, before she was past the three of them, the gathering moving away as she strode through them.

* * *

— _Papiergeist—_

* * *

As I settled into the seat of the truck, I couldn't help but glance towards my dad. I hadn't intended for him to witness any of that, but in a way, I think it worked out better than I could have possibly imagined. I felt guilty in some regards, because I had deliberately downplayed just what Emma had done, but in a sick, twisted, sort of way, it would appear that I had done it out of the friendship I used to have with Emma.

A friendship that was dead and buried now, with no hope of ever returning to anything that it had been.

"Was it always like this?"

I was drawn away from my thoughts as I looked towards him. His hands were wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched in a trademark tell of the infamous Hebert anger.

"Yes."

His knuckles whitened further, as if he were strangling something, before he relaxed, a deep sigh escaping his lips while he closed his eyes.

"I wish you had told me sooner," he said, "but I understand why you didn't. How could I look Alan in the face with the knowledge of what his daughter does to you?"

"It's in the past Dad," I soothed, having a good idea on what to say and do in this case, "I got out and I'm going to Arcadia. It's a fresh start. No expectations and I'll be able to make friends on my own terms."

"I know," he sighed, "it's just when did you grow up so quickly?"

I couldn't offer him an answer to that. I couldn't tell him it almost took me dying for any of this to happen. That it took the memories, hopes, and dreams of a killer to mold me into who I am now. Nor did I want him to know just what that meant for the future.

And I hoped he would never find out.


	4. Awakening 1-03

**This is it for everything I have completed. Enjoy.**

 **Awakening 1.03**

In a perfect world, I would be resting right now, getting myself ready for my first day at Arcadia. However, I found to my annoyance that I was unable to sleep due to the anticipation. This was something I thought I had curtailed in recent times , but it seemed that I was mistaken.

So, instead of laying in bed staring at the ceiling, searching for the unattainable, I found myself doing one of the few things I enjoyed anymore: flying.

It was strange, the feeling of weightlessness as I rode the thermals like a bird, soaring over Brockton Bay.

I could readily see why this was relaxing for Konan, letting the currents carry you wherever they may lead. It was therapeutic for someone with the weight of the world on their shoulders.

It was a pity in Konan's world, she could never do this outside of Amegakure, and never without getting soaked in the process. There was just too much of a chance for detection and attack.

Here, however, there were no chakra sensors, nor was the world in a constant state of warfare like hers. It was also the measures I had taken, after remembering something I had read in a tech magazine at the doctor's office. By applying camouflage to myself, I was able to blend into the sky to the point of nearly being invisible to anyone that would look up from the ground, be it during night or day.

So, like Konan, flying had become my escape. And as I flew over the Bay, I allowed myself to marvel once again at the sights that only those with access to a helicopter or the ability to fly could enjoy.

Dad still had misgivings about me going to Arcadia, but after the scene at Winslow, he had kept them to himself. To be fair to him, the choice between Arcadia, with its good standing, and returning to Winslow made for an extraordinarily short debate, it seemed.

So, instead, he had taken me to Arcadia, finalizing my registration, and joining me on a tour of the campus. It was refreshing, if I were honest with myself, to just have _something_ done together with my dad despite the seriousness of the situation. There had been too few times we had ever done it, even with mom. It only became nearly insurmountable after her death, as we both felt her loss in our own way.

I knew it would take time for him to accept at least this part of the new reality. Kami forbid if he ever found out that I was not only a parahuman, but had the life and experiences of someone who could be quantified as a terrorist rattling around in my cranium. I shudder to think on how he would take that. But for now, I'd tread carefully.

Banking away from the bay, exhaustion escaping me, I decided to make a detour to the workshop I had put up in the Docks. It was one of the advantages of having a father who worked for the Dockworker's Union, I knew which buildings were suitable for what I wanted. While I would have preferred it to be someplace else, that required more money than I was currently wanting to spend. Not to mention, that fixed fortifications were a monument to human stupidity, both in this world, and in Konan's.

Odds were, in the future, I would follow in the example of Orochimaru: a series of non-centralized bunkers, safehouses and holdouts where I could operate from at any time. It was a fixed situation, but by doing that, I would avoid the vulnerability of having only one base of operations.

But for now, I would be satisfied with this hideout here on the docks, perfectly scouted out, with no one within almost half a kilometer, and with some delicately applied seals, the probability of anyone discovering my hideout diminished to single digit percentages.

So, it was with one more onceover of the surrounding area, that I landed upon the roof of the warehouse that I had set up as my base. While I was satisfied that there was no one around, I was not going to relax my paranoia, as I created a few paper falcons and positioned them to keep watch around the building. That done, I descended into the building.

To be honest, it wasn't much to look at. I made sure that nothing was there that would give away that this was my lair. The main floor served for training for myself, where I would spar with various clones that used the memories of Konan in order to provide me a myriad of threats. While I may not be able to do the jutsu, the combat style was something else, as my endurance and reflexes had increased in leaps and bounds since I pushed my body.

Yet, the main floor was only an appetizer for the crown jewel of all of this. In the storage levels located in the basement, was my workshop.

Konan may not have had any love for fuinjutsu, but I had found that I took to it like a duck to water. There was something about the intense focus and allure of creating new seals that I could use in the field.

My workshop served as that testing ground, providing me with more flexibility beyond Konan's skillset, while not being overly consuming upon my chakra pool like an elemental jutsu. And I could easily put them on my person and deploy them in an instant.

Konan, while she could do what I do, using her paper to write fuinjutsu while within me, just never viewed it as useful. Personally, I blamed this disinterest on Nagato and his bullshit Rinnegan. What was the point of increasing your versatility when you have someone who can level enemies and cities alike with the wave of a hand.

I'm just thankful I didn't manifest any of that, and that there was no one with it either. They may be the eyes of samsara, but that much power, and the arrogance that seems to come with it, would be too much for this already fucked up world.

Discarding those pointless thoughts, I instead focused upon the table that I came before. While around me there were several paper clones working diligently in not only the sealing arts, but seeing what it could do with some of the medicinal knowledge of her world. I doubted I'd ever be able to recreate any of it, but it was better to be sure than sorry.

But the seal before me, not even a hundredth of the way finished, was something that I felt was needed more than anything else, even it was ethically and morally abhorrent. It was incredibly complex, and would likely take me years at the current rate to work on, but it would be my final trump card if anything drastic were to happen.

Right now, it was all theory, and it may never be finished. But it wasn't going to stop me. I was invested in this path, both this seal, and being a hero.

* * *

- _Papiergeist-_

* * *

I blinked as my cell phone alarm went off. I had set an alarm on my phone so I didn't get completely enraptured in my project. It would not do well to be late to Arcadia on my first day.

But still, was it already that time?

Putting down my brush, I glanced over to my phone, discovering that it was indeed four in the morning. I had been working for almost five hours now. Taking the moment to stretch, feeling my muscles and bones creaking, I looked back to my work table.

There was just so much to fuinjutsu that one could spend their entire life trying to master it and would only glance the tip of the iceberg. You could achieve so much with the right application of ink, blood, and symbology. One symbol could mean a thousand different things in the greater context. Jiraiya, Konan's teacher, had once said that while handsigns were the physical expression of chakra, seals were the language, and he wasn't wrong.

I could only hope that I could surpass him.

Tossing those thoughts aside, I considered my next course of action. There was a Merchant drug den a kilometer away that I had been eyeing to raid, but that could lead to complications I'd rather not deal with considering the my current window of time. I could send some clones to break it up, but that was dependent upon it being an easy sweep. I would like the money from there…

It could wait, I decided, the Merchants were rather lazy on their cash security, so waiting until this evening should be fine.

It would just be best for me to head back home, I finally decided. Monotony was the best defense against my father right now. To change my schedule could invite suspicion.

Forming four more paper clones, I then dispelled the four that were in the room, absorbing the paper in me and sorting through the reports written upon their essence.

Hn, that was interesting. I'd have to check it over later to ensure that there were no drawbacks, but that could be quite useful if it worked.

Humming to myself as I reviewed over every detail of it, I reached the roof and took off back into the air, circling around one more time, before setting back for home.

* * *

- _Papiergeist-_

* * *

"She's gone," that one announcement alleviated more of her headache than Lisa Wilborn had believed possible. Ever since she had caught out of the corner of her eye the arrival of what PHO was calling Angel, she had found herself bombarded with information, some of which she understood, some which she didn't.

What she did know, however, was that it would be unwise to confront the parahuman, even with Brian with her. Then again, assaulting a parahuman's lair was generally an unwise decision to begin with, especially with what she was able to glean so far.

"So what do we do," Brian asked, glancing at her.

"Leave her alone, for now," she said, "she might be gone, but the place is a fortress. I don't even understand half of the crap I'm seeing right now. Only that it's dangerous, and it's meant to deter anyone from entering, let alone getting close without being detected."

She closed her eyes, reining in the Thinker headache just a tad bit more. Every data point was telling her to avoid this place like the plague

Still, it would be wise to remember this place, in the event it could be beneficial to use in the future.

* * *

- _Papiergeist-_

* * *

Breakfast had been a simple affair, stemming from the fact that I had wanted to eat light in the first place. A pair of rolled eggs for myself was enough to fuel me until lunch, and was quick enough for me to catch the bus in early to Arcadia.

It was a calculated move, if I were to be honest. I wanted both the time to take a lay of the land, but also finalize whatever else I needed to have done before I could join classes. Of course, I still had the course work to catch up on, but it would not take that long if I were to be honest.

After all, I had the unfair advantage of being able to clone myself and gather the knowledge necessary to do the work. I'd just have to be careful not to tip my hand in any way that would merit suspicion. It wouldn't do good to be careless and get unmasked doing something as simple as homework.

Still, as Konan's experiences had illuminated, if you ain't cheatin', you ain't tryin. And I was going to cheat as much as humanly possible. After all, what I was planning was already a challenge enough to pull off. Cheating was a requirement in and of itself.

That aside, my early arrival was fortuitous, as it allowed me to both get my schedule early, but also gained me one last refresher tour of the school without all of the attention that a busy school would have drawn.

That wasn't to say I wasn't going to stick out like a sore thumb as the 'new girl'. But I was doing my best in order to avoid too much to stand out. Even my clothing was meant to be as non-descript as possible: black jeans, a navy turtleneck, a light jacket, and my hair done back neatly. I knew that I would come off as austere simply based upon my bearing, but I was loathe to have it be anything less. I would have a social life, but it would be one of _my_ choosing.

Closing my locker, I went through a mental exercise, discarding my errant thoughts, as I would need to be absolutely focused from here on out. First impressions were everything for a new kid, and I wanted to have the right balance so Arcadia could be a world apart from what Winslow was.

Then again, my first day had already started out so much better than Winslow had ever been, and I wasn't even to class yet. I had been able to arrange my things in my locker without anyone bothering me. Don't get me wrong, I knew they recognized me as the new girl, but they were giving me space. Something that I could never have had at Winslow. That wasn't to say that they weren't casting a judging eye upon me already, but it was certainly better than being all over me instead.

Gently closing the door, I shouldered my bag, filled with only the essentials for the next two classes, instead of all of my books, and walked. It wasn't that far of a walk, but it allowed one final review of everything.

I was here for an education first and foremost. I wouldn't gain the necessary respect unless I had the background needed for it. For that, I needed an education, and I needed it with honors. There was no way I would have ever achieved that at Winslow, and I would have to cheat in order to attain it here at Arcadia, but it was certainly attainable.

That didn't preclude that I couldn't make friends, but both Konan and myself had rather...unique perspectives on what friends were. In a way, we were not dissimilar, but where my beliefs were forged through betrayal and abandonment, hers was through tragedy.

I would be cautious and leave it at that.

Passing through the open door into the classroom, I strode towards Mr. Fitzgerald. I had only met my AP US History teacher in passing the other day. Though it was only a moment's time, it was safe to say that the man actually seemed to care about his teaching.

"Mr. Fitzgerald," I greeted.

"Miss Hebert," he responded, offering a disarming smile to me, "It's nice to have you join us today."

"I'm glad to be here. Hopefully you won't call me out to answer any questions today."

This time the smile was honest in its amusement, "We'll see about that, Miss Hebert. I like to keep the class on their toes, wouldn't be fair if I exclude you from all the fun."

"Then I'll do my best to impress."

"Why don't you go sit beside Miss Dallon."

 _Dallon_. While I didn't show anything other than turning my head in the direction he motions towards, my mind was running a mile a minute, just before it screeched to a halt as I took in the figure sitting at the desk beside the one that Fitzgerald had indicated.

There was no mistaking the figure sitting at the desk, auburn hair, her eyes half-lidded with bags underneath. You would have to live underneath a rock to not recognize who it was.

Amy Dallon. Panacea.

 _Fuck._


	5. Awakening 1-04

**I've decided to change the story title going forward to 'A New Dawn', instead of referring to it as Papiergeist, both as a way to depart from the previous story, but also show the direction I am taking it.**

 **I will admit here that I really suck in familial interactions. It has never been my strength, both because of personal experiences but also simply cuz I don't have really a template to observe, so I think, in some ways, this may be the best I can do to describe the level of dysfunction that I feel exists between Taylor and Danny.**

 **If I'm wrong, please, don't be afraid to tell me.**

 **Going forward, I really don't know my timetable, as I am now officially the general manager of my store, which means at minimum I'm working 50 hours a week in making sure my store runs on all fronts. Nice pay raise, just a lot more stress and time consumed. So I apologize in advice if it seems that the story is silent for awhile, I just don't have the time to invest in it, especially with other stories also languishing because of my lack of a life.**

 **Awakening 1.04**

Catching a flying overhead kick, I was just able to push it back in time to dodge my head to avoid a tossed kunai that whizzed by me. Dropping to a low position, I swept low and away, even as I threw my own kunai in return using the momentum of my body to propel it.

It was then I broke apart into paper, rapidly reforming away from a suiton jutsu that impacted where I had just been. With a quick jerk of the arm I created another kunai just in time to block a katana that would have bisected me, even as I tracked my attackers, some of them wearing my face.

All the while a paper clone of Konan watched me.

This was the sort of intense training that I put myself through at least three times a week once I had the opportunity. You could have all the power in the world, but if you could not hone it to a fine edge then it was wasted power. And chakra was like a muscle, if it wasn't worked then it would fail me when I needed it the most.

That was why when I wasn't working on other projects or out in the field, I was working myself to the bone in improving my chakra, but also honing my skills further.

With a thought, I dismissed my paper clones, watching as they disintegrated into paper before being reabsorbed into myself.

Catching a towel tossed by the Konan clone, I proceeded to dab my brow of the sweat that had gathered as I organized the fight for review, but also reflected upon my first day at Arcadia.

It had been...interesting, to say the least. Intellectually, of course, I had known that New Wave attended Arcadia. It was common knowledge. I just hadn't expected for my first class to be with Panacea of all people. Of course, it wasn't like we had interacted at all, either. But that didn't mean I didn't spend my time observing her either. Surreptitiously, of course.

The jury was still out on my read of her though. There was something about her that not only bothered me, but niggled at something from Konan's memories. It was something I would have to investigate further when I had the opportunity to do so.

Probably Tuesday, I mused, refocusing my attention upon the paper clone of Konan. It was a trick I was still perfecting, but it was proving to be worth its weight in gold for what it could offer. With the memories of Konan, I could at least create a facsimile of her that could help me in things like training, improving on what I may not be able to see simply by skimming her memories.

It did have its limits, of course, it could not perfectly replicate her, as hard as I tried. There was also the fact that when I did do it, I somehow felt...incomplete. It was difficult to explain as to why it seemed that way, but I knew, instinctively, that I was splitting a part of myself in the process.

But that was also for later analysis. There was just too much to do and too little time in which to do it. This was especially so now with the news breaking on PHO of my capture of Hookwolf. I hadn't expected the reaction that resulted there, considering it was the usual modus operandi for the Protectorate to downplay or deny any sort of rogue cape involvement in the prevention of a crime.

But the more cynical part of me (re: Konan) couldn't help but note the _coincidence_ that in the very same thread that announced my apprehension of Hookwolf, a post declaring that the Empire 88 was putting a bounty for information on me just _happened_ to be posted for almost twenty minutes before it was finally taken down.

I would write it off to a sudden case of incompetency if the mere fact that this would, in the long run, benefit the Protectorate either by having the Empire 88 do the leg work for them, or they figured the threat and pressure from them would cause me to flock to them for protection.

It was subtle, yes, but to Konan, it was about as subtle as a bijuu in a hidden village. The mere image caused me to snort as I decided to table that concern. I wished the Nazis and Protectorate luck in finding someone who simply did not exist.

That simply left my father…

Sighing, I tossed my towel into the laundry basket, before stripping out of my workout clothes. With only a moment's hesitation, I stepped into the shower and turned it on, letting the water drive away the accumulated sweat and grime from my workout.

Tonight was going to be rather finicky. It wasn't the meal that necessarily worried me, that was relatively easy to handle. No, the problem laid within both the conversations that were likely to take place and the presentation of 'Jiraiya'.

Even in death, Jiraiya was an extremely delicate subject for Konan. He had been her first, and only, sensei, teaching her the necessary skills to survive in the brutally cutthroat world of Shinobi. He had also been responsible for directing Yahiko on that path that would eventually lead to the creation of the Akatsuki, a path that would end in his death and the subjornment of his dream into the monstrosity that was Madara's Akatsuki.

Oh yes, Konan had _a lot_ of bitter feelings in regards to Jiraiya that tempered the good. It had only been further enhanced when he had tried to stop them. Konan had been _incensed_ when the man who had been responsible for setting them on their damned quixotic quest had the temerity to tell them they were wrong.

And yet...despite all of that. Konan still retained a semblance of...I don't know, warmth? The emotions and feelings were too complicated to even explain, yet those feelings were the ones that allowed Konan, along with Nagato's request, to decide to believe in Naruto Uzumaki, yet another one of the 'disciples' (and I use that term sparingly) of Jiraiya's beliefs in ending the cycle of hatred that existed in the Shinobi World.

Honestly, my opinion was more in line with Konan's in regards to that matter, though Konan's experienced only cemented mine. It was an idealistic notion, yes, and maybe it was achievable, but it would require such a dramatic shift in the human condition that it would need those who would support that bridge.

But that was neither here nor there, the fact of the matter was that I needed to ensure that Jiraiya made the right splash, while at the same time honoring the man.

Sighing, I shut off the shower, just letting gravity slowly claim the water upon me as I considered just how I was going to achieve that.

* * *

 **-AND-**

* * *

Danny Hebert has failed as a parent. There existed single no argument that could deny that fact. When his daughter had depended upon him, had needed him, he hadn't been there for her, choosing instead to remain so lost in his own thoughts and troubles that she had paid the price for his willful ignorance. Just that fact would haunt him to the end of his days.

So when Taylor had told him about Jiraiya, that atrophied sense of fatherly protectiveness that had been revived from its ignorance had immediately taken notice. While he had failed his daughter on Emma and Winslow without any means of making it right thanks to her own industriousness, he wasn't keen to fail her again.

It was only the fact that he had failed her previously that had stayed his hand from taking a more extreme action against this Jiraiya, instead insisting to meet the man so that he could at least get a read of the man before he decided to take any action.

He had honestly expected this Jiraiya to be the stuff of any father's nightmares for their teenage girl, an older man slowly worming his way into taking advantage of a young, directionless teenage girl with no friends and enemies on all sides.

What he hadn't expected was a man who was the exact opposite of every expectation. In fact, if there was a word or phrase to describe the man sitting across from him, laughing raucously at a story that his daughter had just shared, it would be larger than life. He could easily see why Taylor had spoken glowingly about Jiraiya, he had only known the man for a half an hour now, and he found himself actually liking the guy.

But he still had his duty as a father, even if he had dropped the ball in the past.

"So Jiraiya," he finally decided to speak up, "Taylor tells me that you are opening a bookstore."

"I am," the white-haired man replied, smile never leaving his face as he settled into his chair across the table from him.

"And what made you want to do that?"

The 'Why in Brockton Bay' was, of course, left unasked, but was implied nonetheless. It was something he was curious about, to be perfectly honest. Not many people would willingly move into Brockton Bay, especially after the collapse of the maritime trade. And those that did generally could be lumped into a handful of camps, almost none of them positive. That wasn't to say that he _suspected_ Jiraiya was involved in anything underhanded, it just was something that nagged at him, and maybe it was a way to protect Taylor.

However, if he had expected it to put Jiraiya on his back foot, he found himself mistaken as Jiraiya nodded his head in, he didn't want to say, acknowledgment, but it seemed to be just that.

'It seems kind of silly, when you think about it," Jiraiya started with a chuckle, "but I've always had a fondness for books. They can be anything. A font of knowledge. An escape. They can even provide inspiration in their pages. I've always wanted to have my own bookstore so I could share that love with others."

"As for why the Bay? It reminds me of home," the man then laughed as Danny couldn't help but give him an incredulous look, "I'm actually a lot older than I look Mr. Hebert. I also was a lot more hotheaded in my youth, and got myself involved with the wrong crowd for a time. I've left that life behind, thanks to an old man who knocked some sense me, but there are times when I find myself nostalgic for that excitement. Mind you, it's a bit different now and here, but still," he offered a shrug, "I'm not exactly complaining and maybe I can be like the old man for some of the young troublemakers around here."

Honestly, he had expected Jiraiya to provide some sort of story to present himself in some sort of glowing terms. What he hadn't expected was any sort of transparency! Yes, there might be a danger to his daughter, if the man was keen to be like this 'old man' he referred to, but it was Brockton Bay, no one was actually really safe when you got down to the brass tacks of it all.

But still, he was left with quite a bit to stew on, somewhat annoyed that there wasn't really _anything_ there in that statement that would provide an ah-ha! Moment that would let him protect Taylor. He could just take the fatherly stance and just deny her working there, but that would only alienate her, and he honestly didn't want to have it go back to what it was, especially after Emma.

"And why all of this effort on my daughter," he blurted out, his annoyance providing the fuel to bypass the filter that was his mouth.

"Dad!"

"It's fine, Taylor. If I were in his shoes, I'd be asking the same.," Jiraiya intervened in whatever his daughter was going to say, adding to his irritation, he then leaned back in his chair, arms crossing, "To answer your question, Mr. Hebert, it's because your daughter helped a man she didn't even know find his way around a town he had just come to despite her own troubles. A lot of people would have just ignored me and went on their way, but your daughter didn't. I felt compelled to repay her kindness. An earnest ear. A job offer. Those were things I could offer easily, but it's Taylor choice what she wanted to do with it.. I'm just glad that I've made a little difference in her life."

* * *

 **-AND-**

* * *

It was only a half an hour later that 'Jiraiya' had left, leaving me with my father as I cleaned up. After the confrontation that my father had evoked, and 'Jiraiya's' answers, he had become silent and contemplative. While she had been near the point of nervous breakdown.

There was always a degree of freedom to clones and their actions, though it was reserved via the baseline behavioral model of their creator. And while my clone was still me, with some input and decided upon tweaks to Konan's memories of Jiraiya, the exchange and story that had been given by Jiraiya _had not_ been what I had planned on being the backstory of him. Was this a case of merely poor programming in the role of the clone, an aberration of behavior, or was this something else. It honestly bothered I, because while I had Konan's memories and experiences, I was still myself.

Right?

I mentally shook her head, discarding those deep thoughts for now and filing them away for when I wasn't keeping a careful watch upon her father, hoping that despite what had happened at dinner, he wouldn't be an impediment to me. It was doable if he was, it just would be one less thing I would have to juggle in the process if he did become one.

It was just as I was finishing putting the last plate away that he finally spoke.

"I'm not sure I really approve of him, Taylor."

Biting back a sigh, I turned back to him. I had a gut feeling that even if everything had gone perfectly, this would still be the discussion we would be having because my father had suddenly found the will to be an actual parent again.

"I know what you mean, dad," I had to say, keeping my impatience from being evident in my tone, "but it's a new chance, if it wasn't for the job he offered, I wouldn't have the opportunity to even go to Arcadia, to even think I had it as an option anymore."

It was his turn to sigh, as he rubbed his face in his hands, obviously not liking my response, probably because it placed him even further in the corner. It was sad to see, once upon a time, my father had been a decisive man, not one to deliberate over things to the point that it froze him. But after Mother had died—

"I just worry about you Taylor," he finally admitted, "I know I mentioned it earlier, but an older man helping a teenage girl. I just don't want you to be hurt."

 _Too late for that, Dad, you are far too late,_ I thought bitterly, but kept my face impassive.

"When does the store open?"

"Next week."

Again a sigh, obviously this was still too much for him. Arcadia was difficult, but now a job with a man who had been interested in me, yeah, I could understand to a degree why my father would be so hesitant, especially at my age.

"Alright," he finally said, a hint of bitterness in his tone, "but I want for us to sit down every week and just talk. If you ever think there's something wrong, please, Taylor, talk to me. I may seem like I don't care at times, but I do, I just—"

"I know," offering a wan smile to him, Mother had been the glue for the family, the life and verve, without it, we might as well be housemates, "you'll be the first to know."

 _You won't._


	6. Awakening 1-y Danny

**Hey, it's been a bit. So, good news and bad news. The good news being that here's another chapter, the bad news is once again I'm reinforcing the fact that I pretty much rarely have any time to write, so updates are still going to be sporadic. I will say my promotion is rewarding monetarily, but for fuck's sake, the urge to just go full Trogdor on my employees is rising.**

 **I will admit, that this chapter happened because of how another Worm fanfiction that I had been reading basically screwed the pooch and irritated me enough to actually want to write this, despite me being knee deep in other neglected projects.**

 **Anyways, I spent a good few days just dwelling on Danny, the character. And while I'm not sure if I hit all the right buttons for him. I think I did a pretty good job in at least providing a rationale to why he is what he is. He loves Taylor, there's no doubt about that in Worm, considering despite the terrible shit she did, he still supported her. But there's a stark difference between being put on the spot and making a quick decision, and finding the raison d'etre to keep that love visibly supportive, and with Annette's death took him out at the knees. So yeah, I hope I did well enough for you guys.**

 **Also, I will admit, that while I wrote this, I was listening to Fate/Stay Night: Heaven's Feel II: Lost Butterly OST. If you haven't watched the movie, I suggest you do, it's damn good. But more than anything, if you want what I would argue is one of Yuki Kajiura's best soundtracks in quite some time, then I suggest you take a gander and listen to it, because it just captures the emotions of both the scenes it's played on, but hell, even if you don't know the context of the scenes, you can make up your own story to fit the emotions in the music.**

 **Alright, rant over, onward with the story. We'll be returning back to Taylor and what's going on in the next chapter, and honestly, I hope what I have percolating will be enough to keep you all entertained. I only see maybe about 5 or 6 more chapters to this entire arc, and then things will start taking off. I don't really intend for another interlude except maybe at the end of the arc, so make that I guess maybe 7?**

* * *

 **Interlude 1.y Danny**

For the last three years of his life, work at the Dockworker's Association had been a sort of escape for Danny Hebert. The opportunity to escape from the realities of an empty, broken household. An escape from the fact that with the death of his wife three years ago, he had lost the most important part of himself.

That wasn't to say that Taylor was not important to him, but it was a far cry from what Annette Hebert had meant to him. It just wasn't enough, and as a result, their relationship over the last three years had degraded to the point that outside of a few shared meals together a week, they might as well be two strangers in the same household.

The Association had been the one constant remaining in his life. It was both an income, but it was the escape in which he could keep a sense of constancy that was lost the second he stepped into his home. And as the job became harder as contracts dried up, and the Union sought to diversify its portfolio in order to function, he had buried himself deeper into the work, letting it allow him to pretend something that honestly wasn't.

It was both a curse, and a blessing. Because it allowed him to retain his sanity, despite everything. Yet at the same time, it came at the cost of his daughter, an innocent victim in all of his weakness, self-feeding guilt, and inability to move on.

And now, he may have just lost the opportunity to fix it with her.

Even now, four days later, he was still angry at Jiraiya for stealing from him something that should have been what he had been doing. It should have been him that was helping Taylor. It should have been him that his daughter turned to (and if he were to be honest, there were plenty of times she could have turned to him, but his inability to provide her that safe harbor to believe she could turn to him had led to this failure), not this random person she had met off the street.

So he did what he always did, he buried himself further into his work, the guilt eating at him further, even as he reviewed an upcoming contract, making notes on salient points in maybe improving the plight of their situation. All the while his guilt and frustrations served to dutifully remind him of his own failures with his daughter.

He was still doing this as lunchtime came and passed, the only interruption being when his office door swung open, and Kurt stepped in. At first, Danny didn't even notice him, instead lost in his own thoughts that it wasn't until Kurt cleared his throat that Danny realized that he was no longer alone.

"Oh. Sorry Kurt," Danny began, placing down his pen and rubbing his wrist, "didn't see you come in. What's up?"

A sandwich was placed upon his desk, and Danny found his eyes glancing to the clock to check that, yes, he had missed lunch, causing him to sigh as he took the sandwich and unwrapped it.

"Trouble with Taylor," Kurt asked, as Danny took a bite of the sandwich.

"You could say that," Danny admitted, catching Kurt's expression before sighing again, placing the sandwich down and considered what to say. While Kurt was a friend, it was a friendship cultivated in the workplace, not the sort that personal issues would necessarily be discussed with.

Kurt seemed to sense that he wasn't going to get anything more. Then again, it wasn't necessarily a surprise. Danny had never been the best at expressing himself, not since Annette had passed. So, instead he resorted to a different tactic to take his friend's mind off his current issues.

"You hear about the excitement over the weekend at the docks?"

"Not really," Danny grunted, before taking a bit from the sandwich, satisfied at least that he wasn't going to have to discuss his daughter with Kurt. Especially when he was still grappling with it himself.

"Looks like our resident angel struck again."

"Oh?"

While it wasn't something he was actively paying attention to, one would have to work under a rock at the Dockworker's Association not to know about the actions of the woman they were now calling Tenshi thanks to PHO. In the last two weeks, she had been increasingly hammering the Merchants, outside of the one incident with the Empire 88 (who, in her defense, was using the docks for an arms deal), driving them out of their drug dens and cleaning up the docks, and in one case, helping a member of the Association that got jumped. She had become so successful, that there were a few that he knew in passing were part of a small, but growing, fan club for the cape.

Privately, Danny was rather ambivalent to the cape. While he did approve of the woman's attempts at cleaning up the docks, because it benefited the Dockworker's Association, it was tempered by the fact that he was leery about the motivations of this Tenshi. While he was not racist in any shape, he couldn't help but note that Tenshi was obviously Asian, using a Japanese-themed cape name, and while she had hit the ABB a few times, seemed to be focus an inordinate amount of her attention upon drug dealers and Empire 88. Furthermore, he had heard that Tenshi was also interested in the fiduciary benefits of being a cape, namely in appropriating the money of the criminals.

No, he was right to be leery of the cape, as should anyone else. There were just too many unknowns involved in this cape, even if they were doing good for the Docks.

Obviously though, that wasn't what Kurt wanted to discuss, as it was evident that it seemed that there had been more activity over the weekend.

"Yeah, I don't have all the details, but I guess she was busy over the weekend. You remember that drug den over at the old Consolidated Steel building?"

"Yeah," the Consolidated Steel building was over in the southeast quadrant of the Docks, when the shipping industry collapsed, Consolidated hadn't been far behind it, as they had been heavily invested in the shipbuilding industry. After that, it had been abandoned for a few years before it became one of the dozens of drug dens that had become commonplace in the Docks.

"Yeah, I don't think we're going to have to worry about it anymore. Last night she hit it and I mean hit it _hard_. According to PHO, the police and PRT are both still cleaning the place up, and there were something like thirty arrests. But get this, while this was happening, she was also busy taking out another two places in the Docks."

This caused him to raise an eyebrow. Now, while he wasn't exactly a cape enthusiast, he wasn't ignorant of the cape scene considering his daughter's interest in it. So a cape that seemed to be able to be in multiple places at once was, while not unbelievable, seemed strange for a cape to have as an ability on top of what had already been reported. There were a handful of exceptions to this, with the most obvious case being Eidolon, still, it seemed strange to him.

"Well, that's good," he finally said, "I don't know how many times I've heard complaints about having something done about the Consolidated building. Do we know anything more?"

"Nope, but we got some video on PHO this time. Gotta say, I kinda feel bad for the druggies that were there, the lady was not exactly gentle. Still was interesting to watch regardless. Don't know how many times I wanted to go in there and clean it up whenever we caught one of those guys trying to peddle that shit or trying to steal something."

Danny found himself humming in agreement. That had been an ongoing problem for the Dockworker's Association, so it was nice that there may be a bit of relief upon the horizon. Still didn't take away from the fact that they were beholden in their gratefulness to someone like Tenshi.

Still, he had to wonder what Taylor would say about Tenshi. Despite his own misgivings, the cape had been doing some good for Brockton bay, even if the rationale behind it may not exactly be that of a saint. It'd be interesting to talk to Taylor about that the next time he got an opportunity, at least it would provide them an opportunity to talk about _something_ instead of having a series of uncomfortable exchanges between the two of them.

"Anyways,," Kurt spoke up again, "just figured I'd pop in and give you the nitty gritty. Lacey'll probably strangle me if I don't get back to work. We good for Wednesday night?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. Taylor won't be able to, she has to work."

"Ahh," Kurt nodded knowingly, obviously thinking he had figured out what was bothering him, "well, she's getting to that age to wanting to spread her wings. Where's she working at?"

"Bookstore that's going in on the Boardwalk."

"Oh, you mean Daybreak."

"Daybreak?"

Kurt offered a shrug, "Short for Daybreak Books. Strange choice for a book store name, but it makes sense with the artwork they have for their logo. A sun above broken clouds. Lacey wants to check it out when they open."

Danny didn't respond to that, instead finding himself once again reminded about the current source of his ongoing issues. Well, at least a significant portion. Kurt must have read it in his expression, taking that as his cue to leave, getting up and closing the door behind him as he left Danny's office, worried for his friend but knowing that trying to intervene would only make it worse.

 _Is this what I really want_ , Danny thought to himself, the door closing behind Kurt serving as the instigator for that one dominating thought. Did he really want to lose his daughter to a man he had only met once? Because it was more than likely if he kept going like this, unable to reach out to his daughter and connect with her.

A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back in his chair, staring into the drag office lighting, hands finding their way to the top of his head.

He had failed her. There was no debating that simple fact. He had suspected for quite some time that something was wrong with Taylor. All of the indicators were there. How she seemed to become increasingly withdrawn past the point of how she had been when—Annete died. How she always tried to not talk about school. He had just been too damn focused on his own problems that Taylor had paid the price.

What would Annette think of him, came the sobering thought that robbed him of breath. Yet, as he dwelt upon it, it provided its own galvanizing element. Because the thought that Annette would be disappointed in him was something he could not bear.

The thoughts and worries that had been plaguing him for the last four days crystallizing into singular realization. He needed to be better. No excuses. He wasn't going to lose the last piece of the woman that he had loved more than anything. He had to be better for both Taylor and himself, because he couldn't bear to think of facing Annette like this.

It was with this in mind, that he picked his phone, dialing a quick extension into it, and waiting for the other person on the line to pick up.

"Matt, it's Danny. Hey, I'm going to take the afternoon off—No, it's nothing serious. I just need to take care of a few things.—Yeah, I know, I'll have it done by tomorrow.—Alright, thanks Matt. I'll catch you tomorrow."

With that, he placed the phone back in its cradle and got up, going over to grab his jacket.

If he was going to make the change, he might as well start today.


	7. Awakening 1-05

**Alive I am, happy with this work I am not. But progress is progress, even if I got plans for the next chapter which will start starting thinks off.**

 **Awakening 1.05**

The sound of shrieking metal filling the air as it was ripped and torn was like catharsis for my soul at the moment as I recalled the paper I had already used back to me, watching as it perforated that which had sought to contain it. Even more paper began to flake off me to join the remnants, floating to over my shoulder as it molded itself together, coalescing itself into a javelin. With a snarl, I launched it, watching as it punched through the rusted hull like it was paper itself.

The last two days had been a cruel mix of increasing trepidation and mounting frustration. The first being my decision to launch a simultaneous assault on multiple targets that I had identified in the Docks. While this would reveal an ability that I had wanted to keep closer to my chest, something that Konan would have done, the issue was that the Jiraiya 'incident' had rattled me.

No, if I were to be honest, it had resurrected an issue that had been niggling at the back of my mind since my encounter with Armsmaster. There were now two different aberrations in the designed behavior of my clones. The first time I had ignored it because clones were a facsimile of their creator with some brevity to make their own choices within a preset paradigm. Giving a bit of sass was possible within what I had done, but it didn't _fit_ the situation.

The overarching issue is that they were making the wrong choices that were completely counterintuitive and created increased risk factors. Something Konan loathed and I feared, especially at this juncture, where one mistake could have far-reaching consequences.

That was why I had made the hard decision and had found that my fears were not only well-founded. _They were a reality._

While they weren't as dramatic, or as noticeable as the two previous incidents, the data provided from the operation had been conclusive. For some reason, my paper clones were showing aberrant behavior that did not fit either Konan or my own personality. Something that should not be possible as far as Konan knew, which was damning since she had created the jutsu.

Then again, Konan hadn't been burdened with the memories and personality of another. Suffice to say, I was in uncharted territory and I did not like it one bit.

Releasing a sigh, I recalled the paper again, letting it mold itself again into a javelin, before launching it at a much higher velocity than before, the report of steel giving was a balm for my simmering anger.

Because it wasn't just my clones that were creating a problem, oh no, that would be too easy. No, now my father was suddenly showing an interest in my well-being. Once upon a time I would have been overjoyed by this, but now it was merely an annoyance that was more inconvenience than heart-warming. I needed my freedom if I was going to be successful as a hero and to solve this glaring weakness.

It was….vexing.

Releasing another sigh, knowing that if I tarried much longer here I'd attract undue attention that I frankly did not care to deal with at this moment, I recalled the paper once more. Breaking more paper off from myself, I could feel the drain as it combined to form a paper clone. Allowing myself to slump a little bit, as the drain from what I just did and what I had been doing caught up with me. Then again, what I had just done was much more than simply creating a paper clone.

With a nod, the clone turned and walked towards the bay as I caught my breath. I still wasn't strong enough, I thought bitterly. But I was getting better. Where a week ago I would have been gasping for breath, now it was just a mild winding.

It still wasn't enough though, while careful planning and well-prepared contingencies were great force multipliers, strength and skill, with a modicum of luck, were the ultimate determinants on the success of any operation. If I didn't have the ability to fulfill my objectives then I might as well not try at all.

I had to become stronger, there was no other way around it all. Might controls everything was an adage that was true both in this world and Konan's, and without the necessary strength I could not impose the changes I wanted upon the world.

That meant I had to push the envelope, surpass it, and keep on going. It was probably the one definable strength I had that no one else did, at least upon my cursory research. I had the ability to both quantitatively and qualitatively strengthen my skills with training, almost no other cape had that ability, not even the Triumvirate.

My head perked up at the sound of a motorcycle approaching in the distance.

It seemed my time was up, I thought as I spread my wings and took to the sky, taking the time to blend my profile in with the night sky before I head off towards home. Armsmaster never noticing my exit.

 **AND**

Slamming my locker door closed, I took the time to review my morning before I would be drawn inexorably into the mundane again. Not that the mundane wasn't nice, but when time was finite, it started to become an issue when it impacted what I was trying to do. Frankly, I had half a mind to just drop out of school, but I knew it honestly wouldn't be worth the hassle that would develop from it.

Maybe it would be a more wise decision to use paper clones for schooling. Relatively speaking, it would be no different than what I was already currently doing for the book store. Well, to an extent, considering that the book store had a lower probability of me being discovered compared to a school that not only had New Wave in it, but likely had a large proportion if not all of the Wards here.

It all came down to cost-benefit, I mused bitterly, hefting my textbook for the trip to AP US History. Was it worth the cost in increasing the possibility of discovery in order to increase my abilities? Part of me said yes, but the other part of me…

I sighed, shaking my head as I stepped into classroom and set for my seat, casting only a cursory glance at Panacea who currently had her head down in her arms, obviously using the time before class to rest. Again, I was struck by a familiarity I could not put my finger on, something from Konan's past, something important..

"Alright class," Mr. Fitzgerald began, and I only paid him half attention as I watched Panacea out of the corner of my eye, trying to figure out exactly what it was that was causing alarms to go off in my head.

"Miss Hebert," I brought my focus back solely upon Mr. Fitzgerald, "you'll be teamed up with Miss Dallon."

 _What,_ I thought, reviewing exactly what it was he had said leading up to assigning us whatever it was, even as I noted Amy was casting me a sidelong glance to size me up. Probably judging if I was going to be of any use for whatever it was that Mr. Fitzgerald had assigned us.

I resisted frowning at the project, a paper exploring the impact upon law enforcement since the advent of parahumans and the creation of the Protectorate.

Glancing at Amy even as Mr. Fitzgerald continued handing out assignments, I could only think that something, somewhere, must truly hate me.


End file.
